


In Flight

by acme146



Series: Fading Scars [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: After the battle of Hogwarts, Flying, Gen, Grieving, Harry Gets His Firebolt Back, Survival, memorial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 11:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acme146/pseuds/acme146
Summary: When the Battle is over, Harry returns to the Quidditch Field. He has one last thing to do.Happy Birthday, Harry Potter.





	In Flight

**Author's Note:**

> JUST SO EVERYONE KNOWS, I am taking very little of the movie ‘battle’ as canon. ESPECIALLY TWO PARTS, the part with Neville and the bridge (not that he wasn’t awesome, but the idea that Ginny and the others JUST FUCKING STOOD THERE AND DID NOTHING), and the Quidditch field burning. Why the fuck would the Death Eaters have wasted time with that? Everyone was in the freaking CASTLE!!!!

It was the day before the first funeral, and Harry went for a walk alone.

  
The grounds were starting to return to normal thanks to Neville and Professor Sprout’s spells, but there were still rough patches from giant footprints and the trampling of centaur hooves. Harry didn’t really mind. He wasn’t in a hurry.

  
The Quidditch Pitch was eerily quiet. He’d never been there on his own before; he’d always been with at least one other person. Now the pitch was silent, the flags waving slowly in the breeze. The sky was overcast, and it was chilly for May.

  
Harry pulled out his wand. This was a long shot, and perhaps he should have brought the Elder Wand for this instead. Maybe he wasn’t powerful enough. Maybe it was gone for good…  
But he had to try.

  
Harry cleared his throat. “Accio Firebolt!”

  
He closed his eyes and imagined the Firebolt rising from its resting place, flying out of Surrey, streaking across the sky towards Hogwarts. Would it follow the Hogwarts Express path, or fly so high it couldn’t be seen? No, best not to think about that. Just think about it flying towards Hogwarts, finding the Quidditch field…

  
After several long minutes, Harry heard a whoosh and opened his eyes. His Firebolt hovered in front of him. Harry pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He wasn’t, and he reached out for his broom, and it came easily into his hand.

  
Harry held it for a long moment, looking it over. There were a few scratches, but otherwise it was fine. Somehow, all these months later, it was fine. Sirius’ gift to him, the broom that had won the Quidditch Cup…Wood had been so happy, everyone had been so happy that day…

  
Trembling, Harry mounted the broom and kicked off. He flew slowly at first, doing laps around the pitch just as he’d done for the Quidditch tryouts. Ginny had flown by with the rest, shooting him a grin. “I know how to do this, Potter!” she’d called. And Ron had been beside her, Hermione had been in the stands…

  
Now he was flying past the stands, climbing higher. Lupin and McGonagall and Snape and Dumbledore and Moody….all the teachers had stood in the stands, watching. And Colin Creevey was taking pictures, and Dean was cheering loudly and Neville and Seamus were waving the banner while Luna’s hat roared, and Hagrid was beaming with his binoculars, and a house elf and a black dog were watching…

  
But once that black dog had been a student, watching his best friend fly. He wouldn’t have sat with Lily until their seventh year, both of them watching James Potter score…

  
Climbing higher now, level with the hoops that Oliver Wood had guarded, Angelina and Katie and Alicia, Demelza and Peakes and Coote all flying through them, goofing off during practice, even McLaggen…  
And higher still, the realm of the Seekers, where he and Cedric had flown, where Malfoy had flown, where Tonks had flown goofing off with Charlie Weasley…the sun was coming out, making the hoops below glint like the Snitch…

  
Harry looked around, looked down, saw the Quidditch Pitch, and started laughing. He laughed and threw his arms out and soared upwards, higher still, letting the sun get in his eyes and it didn’t matter because he was alive, he was really alive…He’d been so shocked the last few days that he hadn’t appreciated it, but he was here even though he’d lost people, they were lost but parts of them were still here, in the Quidditch Pitch, in this broom he still had after everything.

  
“I love you!” Harry called aloud. “I love you!”

  
He wasn’t sure whether he was calling out to the dead, the living or both.

  
Perhaps he was calling out to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Harry James Potter, and happy birthday, J.K Rowling, for giving us this world to play in. May we do it justice and more.  
> Cheers,  
> Acme


End file.
